In tha locks of insomnia my head cradle
And for my heart ill and lonely`s
The naughty song of despaiir sings
As the horse old who is for tying
Walks A heartless time
And every second points
Its way by tha unsuffered pain
And in steam of tobacco the thoughts`re alive
Bad? Crazy, false desesperate
As wolfs my brain tie
And the trembling past spirits
In eyes by drizzling stains swim
O, God how do I suffer
And what is with me then?
Ill? Or going insane?
Has no sleep the soul vulcanized
And of pulse beats alarm drum….
Strangled night as a serpent rounded
© Copyright: Монах Владимир, 2026
Свидетельство о публикации №226082101728
Свидетельство о публикации №226082101728
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